


together again (bad old days)

by SenjuMizusaya



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akashi being Akashi, Angst, Bisexuality, Dark GoM, Double Life, Dubious Morality, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Female Kagami Taiga, Gangs, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Med Student Midorima Shintarou, Model Kise Ryouta, Organized Crime, Reverse Harem, Slow Build, Smut, Underworld, Violence, ergo scary and powerful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:53:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjuMizusaya/pseuds/SenjuMizusaya
Summary: A twenty-two year old Kagami Taiga returns to Japan after four years abroad, only to find that the darkness has returned not just to the Kiseki no Sedai but also to her best friend.And this time the problem doesn't lie with basketball, either.(Or, the GoM has turned into a yakuza and Akashi rules Tokyo with an iron fist.)





	1. Welcoming

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Intoxication](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197782) by [silkhidingrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkhidingrose/pseuds/silkhidingrose). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl returns to a stranger, Kuroko bashes a heart and Kagami just wants to feel wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please go easy on me! 
> 
> Notes about fic: Only Kagami is genderbent. The GoM plus Kuroko are back to the cold old Teiko selves, meaning they're not very nice. (Yes, even Kuroko.) There's a whole lot of plot and layers, deceit. The part where the GoM is a gang with contacts from the basketball world we know is inspired by the fic "Intoxication".  
> 

Maybe it wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. But dammit if her throat didn't burn with words yet to be uttered and her veins with betrayal and anger, anger anger anger of the kind she hadn't boiled with for years, not since high school when her temper had been as flammable as her self-combusting stove. (It wasn't actually self-combusting but Riko had dubbed it to be.)

"Jerk," Taiga spat and her fist flashed forward, striking Kuroko Tetsuya square in the jaw and sending him reeling, stumbling into the couch behind him, knees hitting its edge and making him take an unexpected sit. "Hypocrite! You criticized those rainbow bastards for being cold and condescending and- and now you look at me the way they used to and you-" 

_You're not supposed to ever be infected by it._

"-you look at me like I'm stupid. And I'm not, I know I'm not because I graduated from college  _so there_." 

The pettiness of her conclusion was just about an invite for Kuroko to come with one of his flat, secretly fond deadpans but it didn't come, his eyes remained dull. The wrong kind of dull. Not warm and misty but distant and icy, as though she were a stranger. 

"Congratulations, Kagami-san," he said, picking himself up and rubbing the reddening sore spot with pale, gentle fingers. The absurdity of it almost left her gaping. 

He'd barely changed over the years: his powder blue hair was a tad shorter and his face, though still soft, had a slightly more defined jawline than before, and while he'd always been lithe the absence of most muscles since he couldn't play as much basketball anymore left him even more vulnerable in appearance. She still stood almost a head taller. And his eyes were so blank in the wrong way and it just... pissed her off. (Made her feel terrifyingly _hollow_ but it was easier to be angry.) 

"What, that's all? It's been four years since we last saw each other and whenever I ask anything you just brush it off? Show no interest in anything I've been up to? What happened to the whole friends part, huh?" 

_I punch you and you barely even notice?_

Her heart felt painful, cramped, beating erratically against the jail of her ribs as though trying to break free and  _it hurt too much_. Four years and she'd still considered him to be the one closest to her, closer than Tatsuya or Naomi from the dorm next-door, and when finally returning for good and meeting him first thing after getting off the plane (her oversized suitcase was even parked in his kitchen) she got this slapped in her face. 

This utter coldness. 

"My apologies, I fail to see how I've wronged you," he spoke up, blinking once. "Did I add too much sugar in your coffee?" 

Her heart smattered into fleshy pieces littering the inside of her ribcage and her head whistled until her eardrums shattered. "You're kidding me."

"I have no humor, Kagami-san, remember?" He admonished gently, denying any funny bone as always. The breath she sucked in was so deep it could've swallowed an ocean. 

They stood in his modest living room, a small square dinner table behind her with the couch, TV, shelf with books and basket cups, cheap painting, cupboard and stupidly perky plant behind him. Any more furnishing and it would've become cramped, but the simplistic style of it and the large window facing the bustling streets of Tokyo gave it a larger appearance. Taiga had visited Japan every single year, usually during summer, but the only time he'd been able to meet her had been the first time, three and a half years ago. Circumstance had prevented them from meeting up more often, though they'd kept mailing each other. And how had she not payed more attention to the way his phrasings had changed over the years? That she'd been the one to egg their conversations forth with only polite cooperation from his side? How had she been able to look away and ignore all the signs? 

She heaved another sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. She, too, had changed she supposed. It had been a year since the last time she'd struck somebody, for one. Her eternal trainers had been exchanged for a pair of sturdy ankle shoes which, from a distance, almost looked like army boots. And instead of still screaming her voice into tatters and beating the cause of her anger into pulp she was taking calming breaths and studied her friend with almost hopeful scarlet eyes. 

New approach. 

"How are the others? I saw our old Seirin team the last time but I haven't seen any of the Miracles since high school. Well, actually I met Midorima two years ago, though only for a short while since he had an essay for uni to write. Guess he's still got years to go, huh?" She recalled belatedly, knowing the green-haired man aimed to become a doctor. Taiga couldn't imagine voluntarily studying for nine whole years. "Tatsuya says hi, by the way." 

"I see," Kuroko nodded, walking past her to pick up the two empty coffee mugs from his small table. The dregs had dried and colored the bottoms of both white cups a mottled brown. The entire duration of the coffee talk had been spent with her trying to coax anything meaningful from him while he only nodded or made the right comments in the right places and made it seem like he was indulging her by spending time in her company. "How is he?" 

Walking into the adjoint kitchen, he didn't slant her a single glance over his shoulder. 

"Good, though I still can't believe he'd want to spend his life with numbers, it seems so headache-y. And don't avoid my question!" She finally accused. 

"They're doing well. Midorima-kun has indeed not taken a break from his studies. Aomine-kun moved to the southern part of Shibuya District last year and seems to be doing very well. Kise-kun almost dropped out of uni since modeling pays him better and better. He's doing it part-time, now, and still earns enough to support himself with ease," Kuroko started and it was as though he was ticking off a checklist. "Murasakibara-kun , I have not seen much of the last year but his bakery is doing very well, and Akashi-kun," he paused, "is Akashi-kun. We meet each other more often than in high school, now that we all live in Tokyo. It's almost like we're back in Teikou." 

"Huh, can imagine," Taiga stated flatly, watching this new Kuroko place the two cups in the dishwasher. Those five Miracles had wriggled out of meeting her as well, come to think of it: contact with them had already started waning in their third year of high school, but at least Kise could've tried harder to meet up. Instead something had always come up last minute. She was no genius, but she couldn't help but to wonder if they'd all avoided her on purpose. 

That stung. 

That did more than sting, it drenched her insides in acids and clawed at her vocal chords until any words she'd try to utter would end up mangled and broken. She felt angry, but even her trusted fury couldn't drown out the heartbreak, shame and bitterness of not being wanted. 

Kuroko didn't answer. She suddenly had the horrible, gnawing feeling of intruding, and once the notion had planted itself into her mind it wouldn't leave, it stayed nestled in the background and watched her with unblinking eyes. Her toes curled in her shoes. 

"Everything alright?" 

So being a stranger didn't stop Kuroko from picking up on her slightest emotions, it seemed. 

"Yup, just tired from the trip," Kagami shrugged. "It's a nice place you've got here." 

"Worked on the side since I started uni," he answered blandly, "and full-time since I graduated." 

Kagami had volunteered for a year before entering college, meaning almost all her age mates had graduated with a BA already. She'd spent that year at an overcrowded school in Cambodia as an aid to the sports instructors and English teachers: most friends had raised eyebrows and snorted at her choice, but she'd pulled through and been of help. 

Been necessary. Wanted.

(She’d needed time to think after graduating from Seirin, anyway- _no, she wasn’t going to think about that_.) 

"Ah." 

No  _have you gotten a place to stay_ or _no problems on the flight_ or even a _how were the final exams_. She'd asked about him, his time, what he was doing, how he was, how others were, complimented his cheerful fucking plant and been a general angel (sort of) up until the punch. And even after that he hadn't changed a bit, not even faltered in his approach.

Taiga started heading toward the kitchen, joining him. "I'll be going home now." 

(She had the feeling that if she extended her hand for a fist bump, he wouldn't return it.)

"I thought you'd be staying with me," Kuroko spoke up, turning around and peering up at her with dull blue eyes, still expressionless. 

She paused, staring right back. All which separated them was her swollen suitcase and she was torn between running away, far far away, or pushing it to the side and sweep the short man into a hug. She did neither in the end. 

"I'm renting an apartment about an hour away from here, in Shinjuku," the redhead informed him after a moment. "Sorry. I thought... why'd you think that?" 

"You brought your suitcase here," he supplied dryly. 

"Oh, no, I just wanted to see you before anything else," she informed him, part sheepish and part embarrassed, discomfort digging its claws deeper. 

"Ah." 

The non-committal response was like a blade twisting in her heart. No air would reach her lungs. 

Nigou, who had until then been sleeping soundly in a fur-ridden basket in the corner, yapped and pushed himself up to its feet, blue eyes wide and happy. He'd truly grown into a massive husky, muscular with thick fur and soft ears. If Taiga had ever harboured illusions about managing to get over her fear of dogs, they were promptly thrown out of the window at the sight of the beast. 

(And her phobia was a great excuse to _get out of there_.)

"I really have to leave now," she told Kuroko and made a beeline for the door, the suitcase big enough to fill so much of the narrow hallway in front of his apartment door that Nigou wasn't able to reach her. 

Her eyes were glued on the tips of her shoes.

"Have a nice evening," Kuroko recited, raising his hand in goodbye with the frost in his blank gaze not thawing. She glanced back and her heart shuddered: he didn't stand in the kitchen anymore but in the hallway next to Nigou, right in front of her though two paces away. It seemed he still popped up out of nowhere. 

"You too," Taiga managed and then she was in the corridor of the apartment building and the door was safely shut in front of her. 

It was gray and blocked out the sound of Nigou's curious sniffing and barking, leaving her in drab silence with a heart which had been stuck in a blender installed on _frappe_. Before the dog had woken up she'd almost started thinking that maybe, just maybe, the chilliness was because it had been so long ago they'd last met, because she herself was different or wasn't used to Kuroko's Kurokoness anymore. But Nigou's eyes were exactly the same as they'd been before and it was undoubtedly _Kuroko_ who had transformed. 

Taiga had been in two romantic relationships her entire life: a short-lived one with Hayama Kotarou during her second and his third year of high school, lasting until they'd broken up in mutual agreement since the spark was so dead it was actually tragic, and a longer one with a girl named Clara back in college two years ago, which had ended with the redhead being dumped for being too intense and rough around the edges. 

That had hurt. 

This hurt far more and it hadn't ever been been romantic. 

She inhaled the cleanex-scented air, biting down on her bottom lip until her canines threatened (but ultimately failed) to draw blood. Then she exhaled sharply and corrected her ponytail: her hairstyle had not changed, garnet tresses still bushing against her shoulders and bangs tickling against the dark arch of her eyebrows and subtle cheekbones. 

Her fingers curled into tight fists, vessels pumping thick, sluggish blood. Taiga turned in her heel, that hollowness inside spreading like dripping gray paint and _she was so lost_ - 

Coming to Japan had been like coming home. Now the very person who made it home barely even acknowledged her, and the main comfort of being back was mercilessly stripped away. 

On the bus she caught herself searching for familiar faces in the crowd, and abruptly stopped. The disappointment of not finding a single person who as much as rung a bell had already started setting in, however. They were all blobs telling her that she'd been gone for so long, too long, that she'd lost touch and was rejected. (No longer necessary.) Riko and Hyuuga were together at the other end of the city, granted, but they'd had never been quite _that_ close, Koganei and Mitobe had moved to the other end of Japan and were running a gay club, Izuki had disappeared off the radar completely and Kiyoshi had a new phone whose number she was unable to get ahold of. And he was all the way up on the Hokkaido island, according to Kotarou who she occasionally had contact with. (Once a year, maybe.)

She felt lost in the familiarity of Tokyo and couldn't shake the feeling that she was a random person who'd ended up where she was on accident, blown around by the wind with the illusion of belonging and goals. 

Taiga leaned her forehead against the cool glass: outside it was warm although the breeze had made her wear a hoodie nonetheless, but the bus had been heated by the summer sun and the people's perspiration had fogged up the windows as a telltale sign that it was far too warm inside the vehicle. Her veins were magma and- 

_And oh gods that was somebody she knew on the street._

She didn't hesitate to leap off the bus at the next stop which was thankfully only a few more houses away, fat orange suitcase slamming against the tarmac as she landed and skidding after her when she sprinted down the street. The sun beat down against her, though the breeze cooled her overheated skin and brain within seconds and made her realize that she'd once again only listened to feelings and instinct instead of her head which was pointing out that they hadn't been so close to warrant her jumping out of a bus for him. 

"Oi," she threw out and the elderly couple she passed look with with indignation and surprise at the volume of her rough voice. "Hey! Hey- _Moriyama_!" 

The slender young man turned around. He'd barely changed at all: his face was still as slim and clear, hair still smooth and not quite raven and his lashes were still far too long. He smiled with an almost automatic charm even though it was clear as the day he racked his brain to remember who she was: "Yes?" 

"Tch, I kicked your ass at basket back in high school, remember?" She threw out, and it was probably not the best introduction of herself but she blamed that on her state of mind. 

On top of that, the reason she'd been more fond of him that most other old rivals was because he hadn't made the comment: I got beaten by a _girl_? 

" _Kagami-chan?_ " 

The once-over her gave her was one part surprise and four parts appreciation. The combination of being a late-bloomer and not committing herself to sports as much anymore had reshaped her into a more feminine figure. The last time they'd met had been at the end of her first year at high school, when she'd been muscular and athletic with eternal sports bras flattening her then-average chest and baggy clothes hiding any curves. Now she wore a simple shirt which fell flatteringly against the swell of her bust and small of her waist, though her open black hoodie with cat ears hid most of it, while faded jean shorts hugged the flare of her hips and showed off long legs which still possessed some muscle: even though she didn't play basketball competitively any more, she was unable to part from the ball for long and had stayed loyal to street basket during her free time. While it was vastly different from Riko's regime, allowing her edges to soften, it had still kept her in shape. 

"Did you miss me that much?" He asked with a goodnatured grin, to which she rolled her eyes. 

"Only as much as I'd miss the next rival from Kaijou." 

"Very much then," he decided sagely, sighing blissfully, "good old Kaijou. Sometimes I wish I was still there." 

"I know _exactly_ how you feel," Taiga shared with a huff. 

"Seems to be a story there," he picked up on far too easily, "can I buy you a drink?" 

She paused, glancing down at her wristwatch, seeing it was already a half past six. "I'm not sure-" 

"See it as a welcome back drink," he pushed, eyes searching her face, and she gave in almost with almost embarrassing ease. 

"Only if we go past a fastfood place on our way, airplane food really sucks and I'm _hungry_ ," she bargained and he laughed. 

"Sure thing, I was heading home to an empty fridge, anyway," Moriyama agreed readily, and they started walking down the streets together, buildings rising up high and looming on either side of them. Taiga wondered what on earth was going on with her. Maybe it was an attempt to escape the loneliness which had threatened to pull the rug from beneath her feet, perhaps it was lingering anger simmering beneath her skin at Kuroko spurring her on. 

"Let me take your suitcase," he offered, reaching out with an expectant hand. 

"If you insist," Taiga agreed after a moment, not above taking advantage of chivalry and passing the handle to the slightly taller male while correcting the straps of her practical handbag over her shoulder. She had a pair of shoes and four manga which hadn't fit into her suitcase there, along with her purse, papers, keys and emergency chocolate. 

He wrapped his hand around it and winced when they kept on walking. "What on earth do you have in here?" 

She raised a painstakingly plucked eyebrow -the only part of her intentionally altered, makeup never worn since that stuff was just nasty and impractical- and stated: "The essentials. There's another box that size coming with the post in a few days." 

"Naturally," he accepted.

(Kuroko would've made a flat, funny comment.)

A few minutes later they rounded the final corner, ending up in a well-lit street where cars couldn't go, people scattered about in mellow conversations. He paused outside a small stall next to a shopping mall. He proposed: "What about gyudon?" 

Taiga glanced at the menu, checking the feasibility of the prices. "Sure." 

She ended up getting the largest beef gyudon there was while Moriyama went for a shrimp one, after which they continued down the street with their papers cups. 

"You went back to the US, right? Kise mentioned something about it," he spoke up after swallowing a mouthful. "How was it?" 

"Good, good," Taiga shrugged, cheeks puffed up with noodles. "Never would've imagined myself as a physiotherapist. Well, I've got three more years to go, but I'll be taking a year long break." 

"Hm, I can imagine you as one. The sort who gives massages or makes you do exercises?" Moriyama asked and she rested her scarlet eyes on him: he seemed to be genuinely interested. (Unlike Kuroko.) 

"Both, probably. I just wouldn't want to work in a hospital," she admitted, "that'd be too stiff and structured." 

"Would you be wearing a nurse outfit in a hospital?" 

She swatted his shoulder: "Idiot." 

"It's a legitimate question," he defended valiantly. 

"Hardly. And what about you, what have you been up to?" 

Moriyama smiled up into the sky: the sunset, though hidden behind buildings, colored it an off yellow and matted pink. "Numbers, mostly. Kasamatsu and I are finishing our masters soon. He still plays basketball, but, well, since I'm taking physics courses as well..." He made an almost apologetic gesture. "I quit basket after my BA." 

"Figured the shoulder I swatted was too soft," she grumbled before confessing; "I just play streetball nowadays, and only a couple of times a week at that." 

"Figured your swat was too hard for you to have quit completely." 

She flashed him a glare, slurping at her noodles and swallowing without hardly any chewing. "Why is everybody doing maths around me?" 

"Because it's the most interesting choice, of course," he grinned and winked, then moaned: "But there is only a single girl in my class, _one_ , and she's only half as beautiful as you." 

"Tch," she huffed and stalled by stuffing her mouth with a clump of beef, taking care to chew and swallow. "You should try looking at personality and brains for once." 

"But I do," he cried theatrically, not quite Kise-esque since there was more flair than drama. "I see the beauty of mind and soul as well." 

"What, you've got X-ray eyes now?" 

"No," he mourned, "what lovely sights that would be, though." 

"Somehow I get the feeling you're not thinking about skeletons and bones," Taiga muttered, broth staining her lips and the heat of it rendering them a darker hue of pink. "Perv." 

"Am not," Moriyama denied, "I'm an admirer of feminine wonders." 

" _Perv_." 

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, waving away her accusation, "your flight here went well?" 

"Yeah," she said, "the flight went well." 

"And after that?" he asked, smile soft but dark eyes too keen, "did something happen?" 

"What makes you think that?" 

He pursed his lips: "Except for the fact that you were far too eager to see a friendly face and the mention of wanting to be back in high school was entirely too relatable?" 

"I didn't know you were smart," Taiga defended her obviousness with a Look. 

Moriyama heaved a sigh, grousing: "I'm smart." 

The redhead smiled at the change of subject. "Sure you are." 

They ended up going to a cozy bar hidden behind a grocery store where he treated her on her first Kirin Lager since far too long. He nursed one himself but had insisted she'd have to pay for anything more herself since his salary wouldn't come until two days later and he was running short. 

"How's Kise? Haven't seen him for ages," asked Taiga when there were only a few gulps left in her second glass. 

"Busy. How's Himuro?" 

"Tatsuya's doing good, he's a mathsy person like you and Kasamatsu and thrives right now," she answered and didn't call him out on brushing past her question: she'd avoided his question about what had happened as well. (But the fact that she'd lost contact with the Generation of Miracles and that Kise's ex-teammate didn't want to talk about him didn't bode well.) "Izuki Shun also went to study maths, but I lost means of contact with him a while ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about him?" 

Moriyama looked thoughtful, swirling the golden liquid left in his glass (he was on his third) without paying much attention to it. "He went to the same uni as Kasamatsu and yours truly, but after graduating I haven't seen much of him. Haven't seen him at all, come to think of it. He moved to Shinjuku from what I heard..." Then he heaved the deepest sigh she'd ever heard from him. "Kaijou is in Shinjuku." 

Shinjuku was too large for her to feel any kind of triumph: she doubted they’d organically cross paths. 

"Pull yourself together," she snorted amicably, "you're twenty-five."

He smiled rather smugly at the reminder: "I've aged well, I hear." 

"You sound like you're fifty when you say that, jiji." 

"You're brutal," he informed her, smile not wavering as his inky eyes met hers. 

"I can be far worse." 

On their way out of the street, Taiga paused next to a supermarket and said: "They're selling some Italian wine for half-price." 

"Where would you put it if you buy some?" Moriyama pointed out, still lugging around her suitcase which was almost bursting at the seams. 

"I've got a good handbag," she boasted, patting the trusted contraption. "It'll fit another bottle or so." 

(She ended up getting two bottles for her new apartment while Moriyama ended up getting a glower for staring at her ass.) 

* * *

Taiga didn't wake up in a slow and comfortable manner, nor did she suddenly startle awake. One moment she'd been fast asleep on her couch and the next she'd opened her eyes and found herself face to face with the TV her father had payed for a few months ago, heart racing. Together with the broad, low shelf it stood upon, a sofa table and the checkered couch she'd slept on, it made up her new living room. Her bed had yet to be made and exhaustion had kept her from dealing with that the night before when coming home. All she had in her kitchen were two bottles of cheap wine. Her suitcase lay unopened next to her: she'd slept in her clothes and fuck, her shorts were uncomfortable to sleep in. 

She stumbled out of her couch, feeling hot and cold at the same time with too much nervous energy fluttering beneath her skin. The coffeemaker had yet to be installed, so she had to make do with tap water and four squares of her emergency chocolate. The partially crushed crackers in her suitcase were devoured for breakfast, after which she pulled off her clothes and baptized her shower by soaking in hot water until her brain returned. 

At least she wasn't hungover. 

Wrapping a towel around herself, she padded back into her impersonal living room and reached toward her suitcase, only to freeze, hand extended. The hairs on the back of her neck tickled and for a horrifying moment, she thought somebody stood right behind her. Whipping around, she was met with empty air and a clump of dark red hair smacking against her cheek at the sudden movement. 

She exhaled, slow and careful. There was nobody in her apartment. She'd locked her door after her, but the gnawing feeling of dread and paranoia which had haunted her during her dream which she couldn't even remember still clung to her. 

"Kuroko?" Taiga called out, only to feel like slapping herself. She was being ridiculous.

Alarm became energy. 

She hastily changed into a plain beige skort with a thin cotton T-shirt which once had been lavender but now almost seemed gray, tying her hair up in her eternal hairstyle and almost forgetting to brush her teeth before starting to organize her apartment, funneling any discomfort into motivation to work. 

Once moving, she couldn't stop.

First, the two shoes from her handbag were put next to her front door and manga were lined up in the empty shelf also serving as nightstand since it was next to her bed, which was then dressed in dark gray and white sheets. The small wardrobe was filled with all other clothes from her suitcase, her two nicer outfits hung up together with her winter jacket. Then the four framed photos were placed on top of the nightshade-shelf: one of the Seirin team after the Winter Cup, one of her with Kuroko and the other Miracles plus Momoi (Akashi in the middle and looking rather short since Murasakibara was on one side of him and Midorima on the other, though nobody had dared to point that out), one of Naomi and Tatsuya (Clara had also been on that picture but been cut out after the breakup), and one of her with her father. They shared the dark red hair and were both grinning mischievously on the picture. 

Taiga worked and worked and didn't stop moving until she sunk into her freshly made bed, stomach whining for lunch and with food from the nearby supermarket in the kitchen and a bushy green plant on both the windowsill in her bedroom and the one in her living room, where the sill was wide enough to sit on. 

"Finally," she breathed out, closing her eyes and yes, that was definitely unease which came crawling back. Where had this come from? Why on earth did she start fearing that people hid beneath her cupboard?

It made her lips purse and eyebrows furrow dangerously. 

She checked her phone (her alarm clock was dead and its batteries were being charged), seeing four messages from Naomi and one from Tatsuya, as well as the fact that it was quarter to three in the afternoon. At least her hair had dried. 

Naomi: _taitai you gotta tell me when you wake up_

Naomi: _cos the message you sent yesterday evening was weird, both about that Kuroko being a jerk and going out with somebody you're not that close with_

Naomi _: or seen for a few years just saying_

Naomi: _and you have to tell me if your neighbor is hot_

Taiga sent: _am up and got nest in order, off to buy a roommate now_

Then she read Tatsuya's from yesterday, which was long and complex and undoubtedly the result of him helping out his roommate with deciphering Shakespeare, but also nice and caring. She answered: _everything okay, currently trying to come back to life after a long trip and being up late, no need to worry, don't die while i'm gone, play basket instead of reading shkspr_

Naomi answered within seconds: _you can't BUY roommates_  

Taiga wrote: _yes i can_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventful beginning of chapter. Less eventful end of chapter. I live of kudos and thrive of comments. 
> 
> Also, neither Clara or Naomi are important. I'll try to limit any OCs to the minimum, and at most they'll be mentioned from time to time (though Naomi might get a few more texts). I just figured Kagami couldn't have hung out with only Himuro and Alex the entire time, so...
> 
> I know I've got other stories to finish, but just having written this makes it easier for me to pull myself together and get back into writing. Especially since I'm finally on holiday and have time to spend on ao3 and writing, the exams having finished two days ago. (Phew.)


	2. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami isn't having a good time and being a stranger in a familiar place has disconcerting consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I'm in the mood for angst with a touch of absurdity to make sure it's not depressing. There's serious darkness in this fic so this chapter is there to make sure not everything is bad. And to further the plot. It stars a new member of the Taiga family, which currently consists of only Taiga.
> 
> Also, I'm still alive. I haven't died this summer^^

The second day of being back in Japan, Kagami Taiga spent the better part of the day as an amateur detective and expanded her meager contact list by finding as many of her old friends and acquaintances as possible. Although, admittedly not all were saved into her protesting phone. She accomplished this mostly by bothering and coaxing those few contacts she already had (Koganei was a blessing) but also by doing a bit of stalking on social media on her spluttering old laptop. Both she and the computer hated electronics and would rather not be in each other's presence (or at least not spend time online, on the internet, or on any social network), but it yielded results in the form of having tracked down Takao, Mibuchi, Sakurai, Murasakibara, Wakamatsu and Hayakawa, as well as renewed numbers for Momoi, Kiyoshi and Furihata. She'd found many others as well, but why would she save contacts such as Hara and Hanamiya (bastards), Megume and Jun (classmates from Seirin she'd barely spoken to), Imayoshi and Tsugawa (ew) or Okamura and Miyagi (she barely knew them)?

She found Kise, too, but only a number and mail for fans. She scowled at the message above the mail address and number: _for anyone who would like to contact me <3333333 _

Neither the number or mail she currently had for him seemed to work. (Neither did Midorima's, Akashi's or Aomine's, and that sat all wrong because what were the chances of that happening, but at least she had Murasakibara's number. Probably. Maybe. If only Momoi would answer because Taiga couldn't ask Kuroko after what had happened, didn't want to think or feel.) 

(But Momoi had been a Miracle, too.) 

(What if-)

She clicked her tongue, brows furrowing and teeth bared into a scowl. Her laptop didn't even need to be shut off before it turned dark on its own with her irritation at the posing pictures and messages Kise used to seduce his fans. Jerk. (Why did he have three earrings in his left ear, anyway? And bruised lips? And the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show off his muscled forearms? Not that she cared of course.)

She ate carrots, fastcooked rice and garlic fried scampis for lunch. And she swallowed down half a carafe of water (she really should drink between her meals and instead of pouring water down her throat when eating) and finished off with a latte from her coffeemaker even though she'd clicked on the espresso button. It had disobeyed her orders. 

After lunch she found her phone on the verge of crashing due to Alex's spamming, the blonde WNBA player apologizing for not messaging the day before (or the one before that, as her arrival day didn't count as Day One) by sending fifteen different apologies in various languages (English and Japanese were authentic, Taiga figured, and the Spanish one probably too, but she had no idea how long rants in German, Chinese, Russian, Arabic and Congolese ended up on her phone- and was that Apachi, there?), not to mention a whole report on what had happened during her two and a half days of absence from the US. 

There was also a belated answer from Himuro to a conversation she'd finished the evening before and a picture of a hamster with a mohawk from Naomi. 

Once her phone was saved from demise she found that in her flurry of nerves she'd organized her kitchen the wrong way, and with bloodshot eyes from too little sleep ( _why did two drunk old men have to scream on her street for three hours in the middle of the night?_ ) she began the painstaking work of taking out the cutlery, plates, bowls, cases, cups, glasses and everything else before getting her kitchen meticulously in order. 

Halfway through she wanted to put on some music because the hairs on the back of her neck tingled and the silence was suffocating and _somebody was watching_ _her back even though she was all alone_ , only to find that the CD player of her radio wasn't working. She could easily message her father and he'd fill her bank account with more money than was needed, but she still had some pride. Taiga resolved to find work sooner than she'd originally planned (the skeleton of that plan had up until then been postponed until next week). Job hunting would have to postponed until tomorrow, however, because she was dead tired and the paranoia had yet to leave her. 

She'd have to remedy that first.

Dressed in her favorite skort and shirt (as well as her trusted ankle boots because not even the summer sun would make her part from them) she headed out into a surprisingly drowsy Tokyo. The heat was trapped between the buildings and quivered like mirages beneath the weight of the sun, and although there was a slight sea breeze shying between the buildings rising up around her solid like pillars and cliffs, it did little to alleviate the hot pressure licking at all pedestrians. She guessed it would rain or storm later tonight: the air was too oppressive and humid, too heady in her mouth and clammy in her lungs. It made everybody sweat too soon and too much, made the world slug into itself and harsh smells permeate the air. 

Having looked up the way to her destination on the computer after stalking Imayoshi's and Hanamiya's dangerously close relations, the redhead set off with confident steps and a trust in her sense of direction. That sense did not let her down and after ambling down the streets for a good fifteen minutes, she arrived outside a small, well-kept pet shop. 

Kuroko had his Nigou. Taiga would have her- 

Well, she hadn't decided on a name yet, but it would be a truly massive cat with long fur and condescending eyes. And big claws. 

Inside there was a constant rustle of paws, meows, squabbles and murmurs. And there was airco. Something oriental played in the background, like from a mystic Punjabi lounge, and the litters of kitties moved around in spacious boxes which were prisons nonetheless. 

 _By buying one we're helping it escape_ , said on part of her. 

 _By buying one we're condoning animal imprisonment_ , said an other. 

 _By having a cat we'll know if somebody else is in the apartment_ , said the rest and majority of Taiga. Dogs were out of the question for obvious reasons and she doubted fish or guinea pigs would be of much help.

Many of the felines were kittens, but there were a handful of cats who weren't quite adults yet as well. The Persians were expensive and asleep in heaps of fluff, and the Norwegian longhairs were a tigery mess which initially appealed to her, but then an angry little thing growing out of its kitten years escaped a cage when its sibling was chosen and the hatch therefore opened. It had the smallest ears she'd ever seen and muddy ambers for eyes, and as it sprinted across the clean floor the fluff of its paws almost made it slip.

With a smug yowl it careened right into a bag of cat food carelessly left in the open.

"That one."

* * *

Hakuna Matata was a hungry cat (he couldn't be called a kitten anymore, not really, but it was a close call) with evil fangs. He was an uneven gray with a comically rounded face and soft fur which was neither long or short. His mother had been a Scottish fold, from there the built and small folded ears, but the father was unknown though he could've had a squashed face since Matata had a slightly flat face. 

He ate the leftover of her chicken for dinner, as well as all his cat food and then some (that some consisted of a piece of beef she'd mindlessly left out to thaw: goodbye tomorrow's dinner). 

"You're going to get fat," she tried to chide, but the compact piece of feline swatted her hand away with a clawed paw when she tried to rescue what remained of the raw meat. 

Matata was also a very angry cat, but only when she did something he didn't like. He didn't like his food being stolen (he'd have to learn to eat what was in his bowl instead of stealing her food, which she'd never leave out to thaw again, thank you very much), or somebody touching his stomach, being ignored, being alone, being bothered, being hungry, being denied food, being picked up without having asked for it and not being given a fluffed up pillow to sprawl across when they watched TV after dinner. He abhorred lamb (bingo!) and the left curtain in her living room, but his greatest hatred was when he wasn't allowed to sleep in her bed every evening and morning. His days were spent suspiciously sniffing at everything (what is hidden here), glaring at the door when the neighbor arrived and made the horrible sound of unlocking his door (a disturbance) and eating (there better be leftovers), and occasionally tearing at her left curtain (vanquish that foe). The nights were spent roaming her apartment and doing approximately the same thing, though he'd glare at the window if a car passed instead of at the door if a neighbor dared to breathe. 

However, he didn't dislike her. He liked to curl into her lap and stare at her with an expectant gaze until she scratched his cheeks (no touching the whiskers!) and liked being constantly in her company or at least the same room (even the toilet) and liked it when it was only the two of them and no rivals for his attention (he'd eat their hearts). The overly friendly neighbor above who loved it when she wore shorts was Matata's most hated human. 

Matata was the best cat she'd ever had (and the only one she'd ever had). Taiga loved him.

Hakuna Matata.

( _It means no worries, for the rest of your days_ but Kagami Taiga still worried, still wondered where Izuki was, still didn't get answers from Murasakibara even though she'd trusted Himuro to give her the right number. Still wondered what had happened to Kuroko.) 

* * *

Mari Hana was a florist in a chic street filled with expensive boutiques and cafes. There was a lolita bakery opposite it, delicious cakes and tarts lined up, ranging from small apple pies and raspberry crumbles to monstrosities with a violent amount of fruit piled upon crispy dough, layered artworks of strawberry and cream, heavy domes of chocolate. Every morning after a yoghurt and coffee for breakfast she passed there and saw loafs of bread, steaming buns, iced beauties and glazed calorie bombs beckon her. Every evening she passed and saw what was left being packed away (could she get one for half price?) or sold to the last customers who found almost all to be sold out. The rest (which was very little, if any) went to those who'd worked diligently that day. 

Taiga worked at Mari Hana. Diligent work did not earn her any free flowers or pots, however, although she'd been offered reduced prices for flowers not fit to be sold anymore. (Even that had been a reluctant offer.) It was a surprisingly large store, stretching inwards and with a second level for plants meant to go in hanging pots and flowers which could be used for hand-made bouquets. Not counting the snippy owner, she had three colleagues, two in their later twenties who took turns at the counter and handling the arrangement of bouquets. Taiga and a surly raven named Rin swept the floors which were constantly threatened to be stained with dirt and watered the plants, then swept more floors and watered more plants, and finally they carried the heavy pots to where the ever energetic owner wanted them and swept the floors after themselves because obviously there was a miraculous trail of dirt tailing them. 

Coming home was always a blessing. And a must. Taiga's mantra to herself when cleaning floor next to the hyacinths was _it's only temporary_ , and when watering the hibiscus it was _I'll soon be home_  and when she endured Rin's hateful brooding she repeated _it's only temporary_ in her mind like a prayer. Mari Hana had been the only place which would employ her within a day and pay her reasonably well for easy (haha) work. 

She'd come to Japan in high spirits, in a golden white rush without looking back or preparing, because she and Kuroko would be able to face anything and of course she'd find all her old friends. Surely things couldn't have changed that much? That felt like a very long time ago.

In a little more than month she'd start working as the assistant to a personal trainer for women involved in basketball, volleyball and handball, but there were five whole weeks until then. Five weeks of watering and sweeping and carrying. 

When she came home, the first thing she did was take a short, refreshing shower. Longer showers for shampooing and proper soapy skin was Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning before taking the tram to work, because clearly the water bills were out to get her. After the post-work shower she'd lay sprawled on the couch for ten minutes with sore feet -standing up all day was a pain for her heels- atop the backrest and head next to Matata's by then flat, hairy pillow, which she'd fluff up after dinner. Dinner was usually simple, and on emergency days when the hunger was too great for her to endure she made macaronis with readymade tomato sauce to which she added oregano and salt before heating it and prepared fishticks in her toaster. It all took five minutes, including the time to drag herself through the kitchen for ingredients and getting herself to the small table where she'd devour it and give a scrap from a fishstick ( _without the breading!_ ) to a Matata who'd stare at her over his squashed nose from the opposite seat even though she'd tried to teach him cats didn't sit on chairs at the table. 

Taiga ended up buying a flat, second-hand couch pillow for him and placed it there. Within a week the dull orange material sported gray hairs like an old lady. 

From seven (early dinners were a matter of survival) to nine-thirty she either read or watched TV. In any case it was spent either in bed, Matata seated on her back and licking his paws, or on the increasingly furry couch. 

"I'm going to have to buy a vacuum cleaner," she muttered. Two weeks of living in her apartment had left it dirty, even without the aid of her shedding cat. 

And so it was that after a particularly horrid day, Taiga headed out of Mari Hana to buy a vacuum cleaner, rags and stain-remover. Her stomach had eaten half of her torso by the time she staggered into the bakery for a snack to survive the trip, soaked from the pelting rain outside, ponytail clinging wetly to her neck and beige shirt almost see-through around her shoulders and breasts. 

Near the counter stood a tall man. A very familiar tall man. And the very familiar, freakishly tall man was using his height and strength to reach for a heavy bag of flour and carry it away into what was presumably the kitchen without batting an eye. Murasakibara Atsushi was gone before she'd processed who he was and thus, whilst wringing out her dark ponytail and leaving a dark stain on the polished floor (which she didn't have to sweep!) and exhaling slowly whilst telling herself she couldn't just barge into the kitchen, she resolved to come back tomorrow and ask if he was up to coffee on Saturday. And ask if the number she had was right. And eventually ask for the other Miracles' contacts, but that would be saved for Saturday. 

She'd learned patience since the first time she'd met him, back when she'd goaded him into playing a game of basketball. She wondered if he had. 

She wondered a lot of things. 

* * *

"Kaga-chin," Murasakibara blinked, the words more of a statement than a question, let alone laced with surprise. It was Thursday (together with Sunday it was the only day in the week she finished at lunch, though she had Saturday free), and she had waited the last ten minutes for him to come out for a lunch break. There was flour dusted all over the left side of his shirt and his bangs were pulled back into a messy topknot. 

"Hey," she greeted, hands stuffed into the pockets of her shirtwaist dress, the material an airy gray with white buttons. "Long time no see." 

"How long?" He absently brushed off the flour from his shirt, and though most of it drifted to the ground at his feet it also made the white dust smear over a wider part of his clothes. "Is Muro-chin here, too?" 

"No, sorry, he stayed in the US. He's working on his Masters right now," she started, and tried not to feel petty about the fact that the first thing he wanted to know was if Tatsuya was here. It made sense: they'd been very close, after all. She shouldn't feel that shard dig and prod inside of her, that shard which her absence had created and Kuroko twisted into her chest. "It's been almost four years." 

"Ah," he shrugged, conjuring a bento from which he started eating without delay. She understood his hunger: she had yet to eat lunch, herself, and longed for the Thai takeaway which was yesterday evening's leftover. "Are you going to stay in Japan or will you leave again?" 

"I'll stay," she assured, and it was an oath. She'd stay until she'd found everybody again and- 

Taiga hadn't decided what to do then, but she'd figure it out along the way. 

She hoped. 

It'd probably involve some fists at some point. 

Murasakibara glanced up for a brief, disnterested second, eyes cold cold cold like frozen violets and... 

Taiga properly took in his appearance. Unlike Kuroko and Midorima (from what she'd seen two years ago), he'd clearly stuck either to basketball or some sort of heavy workout, because he was all muscle as always. His hair was a tad shorter, brushing above his shoulders in a tangle of split ends, and black jeans he wore were clearly high quality. (Although there was a conspicuous dusting of white powder on the left leg from when he's brushed off flour from his shirt.) His jawline was more defined than last time and the cheekbones, though slight, were sharp enough to cut through glass. The most notable difference was a curved pink line stretching from of his right temple, skimming along the edge of his eyebrow and cutting it imperceptibly short, and ending next to his thankfully unharmed eye.

He'd always been a sight to behold, with intimidating height and muscle and an indifferent look in his eyes which made him more volatile. But now the scar and additional age made him positively scary. 

It was an intimidating sight, but not entirely unattractive. Her heart still ached, however: Murasakibara had always been so much of a child and she wondered, not without surprise, what or who could have hurt him like that. 

"How'd that happen?" Taiga blurted out, halfway reaching out. Before she'd as much as blinked his hand flashed forward, catching her wrist in a bruising hold. All of his fingers wrapped around her limb with ease, and through the shock at the sudden sharpness in his expression she registered that his large hands were calloused. 

"Kaga-chin shouldn't ask questions she doesn't want answered," he murmured lowly, holding her stare with such intensity that it couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else than a warning. 

During high school, and even before losing in the Winter Cup, the look in his eye had come from a childish sort of petulance or indifference. Now it was too sharp, too many razors cutting her like blades. The childishness was still there, but only in so far as unpredictability went. The rest- the rest- 

It was- 

For a moment, Taiga was scared. The sort of scared which froze her muscles into solid ice until it hurt to as much as think of moving them, the sort which made her wish she hadn't come, wish she could sink through the ground and disappear. 

No. The disappearing part came from a wet, crying disappointment because this wasn't supposed to happen, _this wasn't supposed to happen why was this happening what was wrong with him what was wrong with her what on earth had fucking happened?!_  

And the fear, the loneliness (the shame and weakness) bundled together until a whirlwind of anger and accusation flamed up inside her, hot and scorching like wildfire, comforting in its familiar rage and mindlessness. Her muscles loosened and she could almost fly on her crackling emotions alone.

"Kaga-chin can decide for herself which questions she'd like answered!" Her eyes flashed with indignation and her words were laced with enough hisses and poison to put snakes to shame. "And now she wants to know. What. Happened." 

Murasakibara regarded her for a moment, probably caught off guard which brought her a sense of satisfaction. 

"It's a long story," he deflected without much skill, going back to eating rice, chicken and wakame. Her inner chef criticized the combination: he might be a brilliant baker, but that lunch was little more than a mashup. 

Taiga would've stood there and wheedled the story from him -at least that was what she told herself- but a long story meant a long while until she could get home and the tram would leave in three minutes. 

"Good," she snapped with the angry, ugly sort of grin which might as well have been fanged. "Then we'll meet here at three on Saturday and I'll treat you for coffee. You can tell me the story then." 

 _And so much more._  

Had it not been for the bribe of coffee he probably would have rejected her proposal (demand?) outright, but with coffee came cakes or cookies or tarts. And she was paying. Sometimes he made it too easy for her. Hook, like and sinker. 

"Saturday and three," he agreed through a mouthful of rice, not glancing up. 

"Also," Taiga continued quickly, eyes like molten blood and smile plastered onto her features. The edges of it his corns of glass. "Did you receive my messages or do I have the wrong number?"

Murasakibara stalled by swallowing before speaking, and through that she knew the answer already. Her smile was so forced it physically hurt when he answered: "My phone's dead." 

As though that had anything to do with it: it could hardly be dead for days straight. But still, avoiding answers was not something the past Murasakibara would have even thought about, let alone done. 

"Well, in any case, I'll see you then!" 

She waved with a hand pulsing with hot, burning blood and then set off toward the tram station. He'd ignored her messages, then. 

Maybe she was wrong to try to find her old friends when they didn't try to either find or answer her. 

Maybe she was wrong to force meet ups like these. 

Maybe it wasn't. 

She jumped out of the tram at her station and headed down the street, into the building, up the winding stairs because the elevator was broken, reached the second floor, stalked down the narrow gray corridor, unlocked the door to her apartment, slipped inside, locked it and proceeded to throw herself onto her couch and lay face-down in Matata's pillow.

Matata pounced angrily at the mistreatment of his property, reminding her both still needed to eat. 

* * *

Saturday was a sunny day with salty winds and slivers of thin clouds misting over the sky.

On her way toward the bakery, Taiga had resolved to make this a final attempt. Unless something miraculous happened she wouldn't push to meet old friends, would let things happen naturally. If they didn't answer her, she'd let them be. If they avoided her, she wouldn't infringe. If they were cold and harsh and wintry, she wouldn't cut and freeze herself for their sake. If she was alone, she'd simply start all over again. She'd see if Rin was as sullen as she'd thought, try to connect with those around her, maybe invite that friendly neighbor who'd offered his friendship (and more) for dinner to see if they had anything in common except for a deep, shattering fear of being alone. 

(Okay, that last one was no-no, because she’d probably end up kicking him out of her window.) 

The first challenge the redhead faced was to see if Murasakibara would turn up at all or if he'd changed his mind. She didn't have to wonder for long, because he was unmistakable even from down the street, standing two heads taller than most and with a mop of unbrushed purple hair falling around his oval face. 

"Glad you could come," she told him, sincere. She hadn't expected him to be the first to arrive, either. 

"There's a good place down the street," he started instead. "Unless you had better ideas." 

"I trust you," she went along, rather than saying she'd had half a mind to go to the cafe next to Mari Hana where everything was just average. If Murasakibara claimed it was good, then it was most certainly worth it. 

For moment he lingered, and the sight of him being lost in thought was odd. Then he set off without as much as checking if she followed. That was confident of him. Eyebrows raised, she followed him. She wore green cargo pants which were both comfortable and flattering all at once, and a white shirt with a black and white parrot on it which her dad had bought ten years ago but never worn: she didn't fit in in the uniform, properly dressed Tokyo at all. Once again she noticed that though his clothing was simple, it was high quality. Expensive, and she hadn't ever known him to be able to afford high prices. But here he was, in a button-up and white trainers even though he'd once complained that white shoes were a bother since every stain was obvious on them. 

The place he brought her to had a small, cramped courtyard at the back, where as many wooden chairs and tables had been fitted as possible. They shuffled into their seats at a table in the far back, one of his legs stretched along the side of the way and foot reaching all the way to her chair leg. One glance at the prices on the menu made her swallow and mourn for her wallet. She could afford it as she'd saved just about every penny, but the vacuum cleaner had been expensive and the electricity bill would come soon. 

Murasakibara mercilessly chose a cappuccino with caramel and cream as well as a cheesecake with red berries on the side. Taiga opted for black tea with a cinnamon roll, partially because she genuinely liked it but also because they were less expensive. 

Mostly to not instantly prod about his scar, she asked: "How long have you been working at the bakery?" 

He though about it for a moment, head tilted to the side and eyes lidded and he leafed through memories from those years she'd been gone, more than gone. (She bit the inside of her cheek for she maybe could've been better at keeping in touch, could've done so many things.) "Three and a half years. Started during the Christmas rush." 

"Got any favorites? When it comes to baking, I mean." 

There was another pause, but this time there was a spec of interest thawing his gaze. "Pastries, mostly. There are so many varieties and you can eat a whole bunch without getting full." 

"You can get full?" Taiga tried not to let skeptical amusement shine through. 

He made a sound which struggled between a snort and a _tch_. "Sometimes." 

"Doesn't sound like a common occurrence." Somewhere along that train of thought she belatedly realized that if he'd worked in the bakery for that long, he hadn't continued his schooling. 

He shrugged. "I'll quit soon, anyway. I'll work in Ikebukuro from next week onward. I'll be the pasty chef there, and better payed with better conditions." 

"Sounds like it's going good for you, then," she smiled, trying not to glance at the thin scar too obviously. "Congrats." 

He shrugged again, his hunkering form making it an unmistakable movement. Upright he stood a full head taller than her at the very least, and next to his broad shouldered frame she almost looked dainty. "I'm good at what I do." 

There was something about his tone which almost made her suspect some sort of ironic joke only he could understand. 

Odd. 

No- new. 

Their order arrived. For a split second, the redhead was certain he'd complain about the quantity of caramel and demand more, but he didn't. 

"Can I taste some?" She already extended the spoon which came with her tea toward the large triangle of cake before him, but his vicious glare made her hastily retract it. New tactic. (She was getting good at new tactics for all the wrong reasons.) "How about a trade?" 

She tore off a generous part of her cinnamon bun.  

He accepted that bargain, placing an unfairly small piece of cake on her plate in return. Taiga swallowed down the instinctive outrage. She still needed answer and him storming off wouldn't do much good. If she gave all of her bun, would that be too suspicious? Probably. And she wanted it herself.

"So, how'd you get that scar? If it's not too personal." The last part was partially muffled against her scalding tea, upper lip almost burned. She suppressed a hiss. 

Murasakibara actually smiled, brief and all wrong. Then it was gone again. "I don't think it's personal for me, but for the one who did it? Personal." There was a child's vengeful sense of closure in the words. And she’d know all about vindictiveness: Kotarou had been a ball of it. 

"I guess," she started carefully, searching for words even as _what the hell_ and _what do you mean_ sprung to her tongue, "it won't happen again, then?" 

"Not from him, no," was the airy reply. Murasakibara was clearly savoring the taste of his cheesecake, lilac eyes crinkling with a pleased smile. Too pleased. The bun was ash in Taiga's mouth. 

"Did it hurt?" 

A useless question. 

"Mido-chin stitched me up." 

Not an answer. 

"I guess he's gotten good at that sort of stuff."

"He's good at what he does, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's rarely Murasakibara who's the first to appear in multchapter/multicharacter fics (out of all GoM, that is). Maybe Akashi beats him when it comes to suspense stories, but I wouldn't be able to tell. I apologize if Murasakibara was OOC, but I figured that's what he'd be like in this AU when older. 
> 
> I welcome Evil Cat Matata into this fic and Taiga's family. He's the only character with a moral pedestal, because he clawed it away from me when I said I would favor no character (fan-favorite or not). And he has reserved the right to ensure this story doesn't become depressing.
> 
> I could say something about Taiga's stability. I really could, but? I won't^^  
> Also, in canon m!Kagami is 190 cm (6'3), but here she's 183 cm (6'0) because that's what biology does.


End file.
